there's music on that hill up there, can you hear its melody?
its maker I know well, from long ago -
but our travelling souls went awry.

you want to know about him?
he was a peasant, made of social anti-matter, and
his mind was composed of flowers you could explode
in the palm of your hand.

he wore a green jacket - his confidence,
with which he fought against what he found,
spreading peace and decadence - his lady's ashes - across the ground.
his logic was a medieval gauntlet that nobody could understand.
the process of his thought thereafter was decidedly exhausted
by the captive denizens that were lost to it.

he once said he dreamt of you and I, when his daughter willed her suicide,
but then he just went back to his book, whose curtainvelvet pages
echoed questions we'd mistaken for evidence he'd burned and overlooked.

like the clouds that hide entire mountains in the time
it takes one of us to steal a breath and make away like bandits,
he would counteract his presence with comments that bought the death
of common sense, vesting himself in the castle's circuitous defense.

he was silent in his judgment of men, and intrepid was his glowing glance.
and he could waterproof the earth from rain, but his love - it was a cliffside devil's dance.

oh child, leave me be now,
for my ears are want to hearing -
now, there's music coming from that hill up there,
why don't you go and follow it?
Last edited by spike_8bkp at Aug 19, 2010,
You are an absolute wizard with words in both your critiques, your writings and just your general comments around the forum. This piece reminded me a lot of Stairway to Heaven, a lot of similar folk imagery and it incites a very similar feeling inside me. One of mysticism and naturalism, like the whole earth is singing along with you, trying to tell you something that you should know but you never will.
The third stanza is beautiful.
Otherwise, i like some parts of this, but other times, the words got in the way of the poetry. i almost want you to say less about it and sometimes a thing needs to comparison or poetic remark in my mind. but maybe i'm just counteracting this crit with comments that bring about the death of my knowledge of poetry.

Good piece.
If I knew anything about poetry, mr. hippie, I wouldn't write the way I do.

If you don't mind, I'd like some clarification on "and sometimes a thing needs to comparison or poetic remark in my mind." I want to understand, but I'm sort of lost. Thanks.
i meant to that sometimes a thing doesn't need a comparison or a poetic remark, at least to me.
im inclined to say i feel less line breaks and longer lines in a lot of places would help it move better- maybe more musically- when read on the page. (im not sold on this yet though)

looking past that, there is definitely a melody. it reminds me of a long time. we all grow old during this. and we're still waiting for that someone to take our breath. maybe the someone playing the music?
I love your slam pieces.
The line breaks didn't bother me, but the stanza breaks did.

Clearly you did that for the visual effect,
but it hinders the beautiful flow you create;
from one space to another you're taking apart
the essence you've managed to convey from the start.

If you break down a person's thoughts into bits
don't you worry that some of them later won't fit?
Take a breath, like I know you can do
and leave structure to those who don't have a clue.

p.s. stanza 7 was pure brilliance.
This is not a pipe

"Success is as dangerous as failure. Hope is as hollow as fear." - from Tao Te Ching

Thanks for the kind words and poetry. Carmel, I've fixed it with you in mind, but I'm sure it won't make you happy until my whole poems are in single stanzas

you people -